


One Last Job: Of A Scheme Most Irrational

by chromission



Series: Catch Me If You Can [6]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Attempt at Humor, Buzzfeed Unsolved References, Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime, Does the end count as angst????, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Plot, Slow Burn, Street smarts, buzzfeed unsolved au, john mulaney strikes again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 10:42:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15906654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromission/pseuds/chromission
Summary: It has been several months since Tinsley agreed to work with Goldsworth to steal a relic of myth.What is to be gained?For an unemployed Tinsley:  his own investigation firm, a reputation so grand that it would overturn his years being seen as a buffoon, and his efforts to expose Ricky Goldsworth acknowledged.For the eccentric Goldsworth: exhausted of having no claim of credit for every misdeed and comical wrongdoing, he shall gain all that and maybe a little more once his endeavors with the detective are over.When they have gained what they wanted, shouldn’t it be easy to walk away?





	One Last Job: Of A Scheme Most Irrational

**Author's Note:**

> hello again, that's right, i'm not dead!  
> lmao each chapter keeps getting longer and longer
> 
> as per usual i gotta inform yall that you gotta read from the [START](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14096544) of this nonsense for this to make any sense.
> 
> \-----------------  
> oh hey look i added links to pictures because apparently i wanted this to be a sort of illustrated story lol

 1996

Location:  Restricted area: Tomat-0 in Sweden

Time: 13:06                  

 

_Dear reader, if you would be so kind as to look to your left. For you will see endless pine trees. Now look to your right and you’ll see more pine trees. If you look straight ahead, you will see a 6’2 lanky figure and a 5’9 bundle of shrieks both running through the pine and shrub like headless chickens._

A bullet barely nicks Tinsley in the thigh. It lands into a tree, its wood splinters out upon impact. More gun fire erupts from behind. Tinsley and Ricky’s legs move as fast as they can carry them. The sound of barking hounds near.

 “Oh shit, this looks bad” Tinsley says as looks over his shoulder to see several men with [mp5s](https://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwiIg5Cv9N7cAhVvHjQIHerjBjIQjRx6BAgBEAU&url=https%3A%2F%2Fgunmagwarehouse.com%2Fblog%2F9mm_mp5_magazines%2F&psig=AOvVaw1nK3UOOgWyaqrIb06Oj6Lw&ust=1533867540596414) charging at them.

 

“ _Bad” commonly describes something undesirable, unfavourable and unpleasant, but it is also relative to one’s personal way of weighing things. In most circumstances, being shot at by a group of armed men and chased by large dogs is irrefutably bad, but not to Goldsworth._

_This was just another Tuesday afternoon._

_-scratch frame-_

_Apologies dear reader, but one must turn back the clock to see how our boys found themselves running through the woods with masked men armed with military grade weapons chasing them._

_-rewind-_

_There are many things to be nervous about, dear reader, and jumping out of a[King Air C90](https://www.ainonline.com/sites/default/files/uploads/2013/06/beechcraft_king_air_900px.jpg) 12,000 feet above thick woodland is a justifiable one._

 “You’ve done this before, yeah?” Tinsley asks as he looks out the window, only to see never-ending blue and puffs of wistful clouds.

“Of course, this isn’t my first rodeo!” Ricky fumbles to clip on a belt on his shoulder. “It’s my second!”

Tinsley’s right eye twitches.

Ricky tells Tinsley to stay still to fasten himself to Tinsley’s front harness. Tinsley looks down at the shorter man wriggling himself into him and couldn’t help but plop his chin on Ricky’s hair.

Upon feeling the weight of Tinsley’s head in his scalp Ricky snickers “Getting cozy there, detective?”

Tinsley gives a light-hearted mutter in return.

Once conjoined, they both waddle in unison to the cockpit where the sound of fuzzy droned out guitars reverberated from the walls.

In the pilot’s seat is Francesca wearing her aviation headset crookedly and with only one ear muffed. Beside her is a boombox blaring out a tune on the co-pilot seat. She drums her pointer fingers on the dashboard wildly along to the song.

 

 _“_[Hey you! Up In the sky](https://youtu.be/wKkgoi8_mgE?t=18)  
Learning to fly  
Tell me how high  
Do you think you'll go  
Before you start falling”

 

Francesca turns to the boys and grins. She turns the music down to give them a briefing of their drop off point. Ricky notices Tinsley’s hand twitching as it kept bumping into his thigh. He takes his own hand, and has it hover over Tinsley’s before opting to rest on his forearm. Tinsley’s spasms cease a few moments later.  

Rationality has always been a discarded asset for Goldsworth; now it is noted for quite some time that Tinsley has acquired the knack for embracing the lack of it. Perhaps now, Ricky could offer his misplaced excitement to supplement Tinsley’s missing and much needed courage.

 

A lack of method to the madness of this half-baked plan, Tinsley lets impulse and curiosity get the best of him and pull the reigns of judgement...again.

Once Francesca finishes, she takes one peak out the window and gives the thumbs up.

Ricky and Tinsley waddle back out to the cabin and roll the door open. Gusts of air rush into the plane, reminding them to put their goggles on. With wobbly legs, they make their way to the edge of the door only to have Tinsley instinctively reaching for its frames.

Ricky hollers to Francesca “Fran? A little help here!”

On that note, Francesca turns the control wheel harshly to a full ninety degrees, flanking the plane. The sudden maneuver catches Tinsley of guard and has his fingers slipping off the door’s edge.

With that, Tinsley and Goldsworth are sent plummeting down to earth at 195 kilometres an hour. It is in the spur of the moment when adrenaline clouds Tinleys’s blood that he doesn’t realize Ricky is laughing hysterically.

_They say your life flashes before your eyes when death blows it uninvited breath in your face, but our dear detective, Tinsley, could only see the tuffs of hair on Ricky’s head and trees and other greenery of the earth._

 

* * *

 

 

Several bumps into trees garbled screams and unintentional leaf chewing later-

The sensation of solid mass against wobbly legs felt surreal to say the least. It forced the long held breath in both the boys to be expelled.

Ricky unbuckles his harness and slips out of his bonds.

“Wasn’t that great!?” Ricky turns around to face Tinsley only to his partner fall flat on his back onto the foliage.

Tinsley rolls over onto his stomach. With his face in the dirt, he grabs a handful of grass and moss in each hand and brings to his head to bury his face further in. The muffled albeit recognizable words “Oh sweet sweet ground” are let out.

Ricky slaps his knee, desperate to not bust a lung from seeing the detective in such a state.

“C’mon, tinsel-boy, it wasn’t that bad.”

Tinsley hastily props himself up and quickly regrets doing so, but he manages to will himself to chuck the crushed grass he has been balling in his fists at the shorter man. The mix of moss and grass disperse into the air, not even a single blade reaching Ricky.

Aware of how his misguided attempt to hurl grass at Ricky has his stomach up in his ribs, Tinsley is surprised he hasn’t thrown up yet. The man before him chokes out another laugh.

Tinsley sits on the grass and stares at the ground right below Ricky’s feet. He tries to drive the nausea rising out of him. Ricky holds out a hand who Tinsley reluctantly snakes his fingers over his palm.

“I hate this.”

“I’ve lost count how many times you’ve incessantly said that, detective. Same goes for the many time I’ve replied that you chose to be here.” Ricky snorts

“Yeah, yeah whatever -I hate you too.”

Tinsley’s lips draw themselves into a line when his eyes lay on Ricky’s face. His nausea buries itself away for now.

“You’re bleeding.” Tinsley says in almost muted manner.

Ricky was in the middle of taking out his map when he heard his partner.

“Hmm?”   Ricky shoots Tinsley curious eyes. He feels warmth in a form of a line hastily crawling over his eyebrow and into his left eyelid. Ricky winces and squeezes his eyes shut. His instincts rush his hand to rub his eye, but it worsens the sting.

“Stop that you idiot!”

Ricky barley manages to open his eyes to see Tinsley walking towards him.

Tinsley yanks Ricky’s stubborn hand away to inspect the damage. He swipes his thumb out from the inner corner of Ricky’s eye. He does this several more times with the cuff of his jacket to rid of the blood. Tinsley’s attention goes to the very visible gash on Ricky’s hairline and dabs it with the jacket cuff of his other arm.

Ricky flinches at the action and steps back.

“Ricky, get your ass back here” Tinsley scolds.

“I can clean myself up, Tinsels.” Ricky snorts and places his open palm on the wound only to wince once more.  “I’ve had worse.”

Tinsley stills at his words but regains vigor to spit out a stern talk.

“Alright! That’s it. Sit your ass down right now!”

“Wha-“

“I said ‘sit down!’”

Ricky complies and crosses his legs.

“We’re losing daylight” Ricky drawls as he crosses his arms over his puffed-out chest like a petulant child.

“Shut up.” Tinsley scours for a band aid in his backpack. He quickly gets to work on Ricky’s gash and does the best he can despite not being able to clean it properly. From Tinsley’s peripheral vision, he sees Ricky’s eyes trained to his face.

“Quit staring at me like that.”

“Why?”

Tinsley gives a quiet puff and presses on the bandage for a brief second making Ricky scowl at the contact. Ricky quickly recovers and laughs it off.

 

* * *

 

 

The boys have marched on into the fresh spring greenery long enough to see the sun has rest further west. The sound of an engine whirring nears them. They immediately duck behind a rotting log and peek to see a camouflaged [open-bodied jeep](https://www.maxim.com/.image/t_share/MTQxNTQyNDg5NTEyMjI0MzU3/facebook-linked_image___dsc_0020-1jpg.jpg) approaching. The vehicle carried only two men.

Two armed men in fatigue uniforms.

“Just great.” Tinsley sighs.

Ricky pulls out a [pistol](http://livestockconcepts.com/20529-large_default/pneu-dart-190b-air-pistol.jpg) with an oddly shaped barrel, “You can say that again, Tinsels.” He raises his body from cover ever so slightly to take aim.

“Goldsworth, this was never part of the plan!” Tinsley attempts to drag Ricky back, the urgency in his voice was endearing to the shorter man.

“Of course, it was.” A muted swoop cuts through the air after the squeeze of the trigger. “I clearly remember us agreeing to intercepting personnel to get in the Silo”

The driver of the jeep wobbles in his seat as his companion reaches out to aid him. Tinsley is mortified till he looks back at Ricky who is now reloading a dart with a bright red tail into the pistol.

The smug grin on Goldworth’s face made Tinsley’s hand twitch into a half-formed fist, but he quickly turns his attention back to the jeep that slowed to a stop.

The man in the jeep continuously shakes the semi-conscious driver, “Hey man, this ain’t funny. Andrew, wake up!” He sees a [dart with a fluff of bright red](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f3/d4/e8/f3d4e88be535c62275880afa2b9a3161.jpg) on the arm of the man he referred to as Andrew and tugs it off to inspects it. “Oh.”

The man feels a sting in his neck, too harsh for an insect to give. He reaches up and feels a rod like object protruding out of his neck and pulls it off. It is identical to what he just yanked off Andrew’s arm.

“We’re so…not…paid enough…fffor th-this job, Steven.” Andrew mumbles beside him.

 “You cccould say… it’s… not worth it” Steven slurs as he lays limp and falls off his seat an onto the moss-covered ground.

Ricky and Tinsley spring up from the shrubs like gophers to witness Steven falling to the ground.

 

Ricky walks towards the vehicle, Tinsley not far behind.

“Alrighty, Tinsley, it’s time for the fun part” Ricky starts to unbuckle his pants. Tinsley scoffs out and waves his hands.

“Ey, ey! What are you up to?!”

“Oh, you’ll see, man.” Ricky looks back at Tinsley excitedly.

“Why are you unbuttoning your pants?”

“Don’t worry bout it.”

“We’re in- what are you doing?!”

Ricky slides his pants all the way down to his ankles and kicks them off.

“Your turn, Tinsley.”

“No!” Tinsley sounded scandalized.

Ricky proceeds to strip off the rest of his clothes on his upper body. Tinsley appears mortified as he watches Ricky take Steven’s uniform off and slip himself in it.

“Hurry up, Tinsley!”

 

* * *

 

 

“I feel ridiculous.” Tinsley give himself a once over and his eyes burn at the sight of tight-fitting clothes he stole off Andrew.

“Don’t worry, you look great.” Ricky takes note how Tinsley’s wrists and ankles are bare.

Tinsley struggles to move his limbs as he moves the stirring wheel and clutch. The boys take a quick glance behind them; there laid Steven and Andrew sitting under a tree in their shirts and underwear.

 

* * *

 

 

_It was safe to assume the rigid professionalism and expectations Tinsley tried to emulate were not garnered from his time as a private investigator but from several heist movies he’s watched over the years. Same goes for the pretentious soul who wrote this._

_So dear reader, it is also very much safe to say that none of what this duo shall perform in any other circumstance would succeed. Their luck on that very day was a whimsical ploy the universe disguises as the boys’ aptitude for the criminal._

Tinsley and Goldsworth cash in their first chip of luck when they reach the gates of the Silo. It is an opposing figure juxtaposing it lush surroundings. Taking a colour scheme of white and varying shades of grey. Pristine and alien, it’s sharp edges and protruding metal beams whirring. Atop the structure sits foliage and short trees, no doubt to hide itself from aerial view.

 

According to Goldsworth’s findings, the structure was made under the guidance of some hard-boiled and eccentric managing director of an illegal auction house years ago. The unnamed man is a recluse but has the proclivity of acquiring rare pieces….by any means. You could say it is a hobby that’s gotten out of hand. Ricky never paused expressing how much he thought of it a shame to hoarding such treasures but refusing to let anyone know.

 

The boys use Andrew and Steven’s identification cards to buzz themselves in. The gate lets out a loud beep before sliding open. The interior has an almost clinical air to it, outlined with buffed metal and glass giving the illusion of never-ending space. The hallways are buzzing with hive-like activity. Personnel with similar attires all walk with cold efficiency; all seem occupied with their own duties and appeared to be armed.

Ricky visualizes the blueprints and lays its outlines over the corridors they walk in, a mental map. Tinsley steels his demeanor mirror those bustling around him, but he sees his partner sporting a look of boyish carelessness.

 

It took Tinsley and Goldsworth approximately seventeen minutes and thirty-four seconds and a minimum of two panic attacks to find the storage holding the golden Aquila. Being several floors below the ground, it was accessible only by elevators. The boys evaded any suspicion by the time they reached that floor much to Tinsley’s relief. The lack of peril weighed in the back of his mind.

When the elevators opened they see a hall of glossy black with strips of white light from above with several glass compartments. A maze -an archive of sorts, full of lost artifacts, long forgotten relics and stolen jewels and art. Ricky busies himself disabling the cameras discreetly as Tinsley gawks at the sight before him. He takes a few steps to the wall and sees a familiar painting, a Rembrandt painting that went missing six years ago -stolen from Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.

“Huh, so this is where you ended up.” Tinsley scoffs at the canvas.

“Tinsley, over here!”

Tinsley turns around to spot Ricky standing in front of plinth supporting a shiny effigy of an eagle, the golden Aquila. It still held its shine, though it kept some of the scuff marks and blots of unpolished surface giving it some character painted by time. Tinsley sees Ricky looking at the glass encasing his prize. A metallic keyboard and a narrow monochrome screen stand beside it.

Ricky hummed inquisitively as he examines the keyboard when Tinsley walks up to him.

“May I?” Tinsley asks.

Ricky’s lips quirk up as he gives Tinsley some room. Curious eyes never leaving the detective’s form. Tinsley takes note of the marking on the plinths’ edges are of archaic Latin letters, but when translated is a bunch of gibberish. Ricky expresses awe when Tinsley discloses this information to Ricky. “Since when did you know Latin, Tinsley?”

“I thought you did your research on me? I took German and Latin” he shrugs

“Well aren’t you quite the scholar.”

Tinsley brings his attention back to the unidentified words and snorts “They didn’t really try, did they?”

“How do you mean, Tinsels?”

Tinsley hits several letters in the keyboard, with each key pressed am asterisk appear on the screen. He nonchalantly hits ‘enter’ and the glass walls come sliding down.

Ricky’s hand comes down to Tinsley’s shoulder and shakes him. His enthusiasm makes his hands grab the back of Tinsley’s neck and back of the head to plant a celebratory smooch on Tinsley’s cheek. Ricky’s legs move themselves to jump and twirl around the dumbfounded detective planted in place.

 

Tinsley snaps out of his reverie when he sees Ricky producing a Paddington bear out of his bag. Ricky holds out the bear with strained effort “This bad boy over here weighs almost 20 pounds!”

“Why do you have a 20-pound stuffed bear with you?” Tinsley says rubbing his cheek.

“Have you ever seen Raiders of the Lost Arc?”

Ricky turns to the eagles and places a hand on its neck as he lifts it only to place the bear in its place. Tinsley rushes to his side and delicately lifts the Aquila off the plinth. 

The Paddington stuffie lays lopsidedly but Ricky sits him upright the same way a child would arrange their toys on a tea table.

“I thought this was supposed to weigh 80 pounds” Tinsley struggles to place the bird in the foldable metal briefcase.

“Pff… rumours, Tinsel-boy. I don’t think it would’ve been practical for Roman armies to carry an eighty-pound eagle in battle”

 

Clean cut and done. All that’s left is to walk out like nothing happened, but there is a minor discrepancy to their plan, they failed to notice the single camera embedded in on of the displayed bejeweled crown beside them.

 

* * *

 

 

Tinsley and Ricky make it out of the elevator to the sounds of a siren blaring, making the walls vibrate with red lights flashing.

“We’re on lockdown!” a voice bellows from the speakers.  Ricky slinks and narrows his eyes to look around like what Tinsley like to refer to as a very cunning gecko. He eyes the vent right above Tinsley’s head and raises his eyebrows. Tinsley follows Ricky’s line of site.

“I don’t think I’d fit in there.”

“Zip it and give me a boost, Tin-man!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Damn it.”

Ricky looks to the source of the voice, eagerly waiting for Tinsley to shimmy himself out of the vent. With one final push, Tinsley pops himself out of the vent and lands on the moss-covered ground.  Ricky pulls Tinsley up on his feet. 

They see the tree line that borders the premises less than a few feet away and make a dash for it.  The sound guns cocking fuel they’re frenzied movements. They make their way down a slope littered with rotting logs and moss. The densely packed trees force the Silo’s men to follow them on foot.

Tinsley hops over a large rock, almost dropping the briefcase. Ricky slams his head straight into a low hanging branch, but he keeps his footing in order and rushes on with leaves in his hair.

“Oh shit, this looks bad!”

 

* * *

 

The boys redeem another dose of luck when by some divine intervention they’ve elude the men chasing them. They reach a shallow stream when Ricky starts whining about something incomprehensible.  Tinsley is too busy catching his breath to pick up on what he says, but it took the sound a splash to lift force his attention on Ricky.

The shorter man had stumbled in the edge of the stream, effectively soaking his bottoms and damping his top. Tinsley mumbles about how careless Ricky could be but is immediately silenced when he sees Ricky starting to shiver. He resembled a wet and disappointed dog and Tinsley couldn’t help but feel the sympathy to radiate off of his form.

“What are you doing” Ricky asks while trying to wring out his clothes.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Tinsley undoes his jacket buttons and pulls Ricky towards him. He tucks Ricky’s sopping form under his jacket. “We got to keep moving.”

“Aww, bless you Tinsley.” Ricky teases by pinching the detective’s cheek.

 

It has been hours and oddly enough, they’ve managed to stay close to their agenda, for their next act required a hasty escape upon a moving train that is to pass through these woods.

They hear the train before they see it and once they do, it slows when going up the slope of the hill they stood on. The boys hop onto the back of one of the cars and pry a door open, credited to Tinsley.

It would be untrue to say their sudden arrival didn’t stand out to the passengers. This particular train car was barely occupied and only seated by a few elderlies. The boys are quick to figure out that this was the first-class coach. Ricky couldn’t help but wave to them saying he and Tinsley were a pair of maintenance men who’ve just decided to pop by in army fatigues.

They take a seat and cover up much of their attire as they could with the extra clothes that they brought. Tinsley sets the metallic briefcase between his and Ricky’s legs. The two lean back and exhale dramatically as they let their bodies recuperate from the cat-chase of a hike they just. Ricky’s mutter how his head feels strange and judging by his footing and slacked motor skills, he was showing signs of a concussion. Tinsley lulls back into the cushion and closes his eyes before feeling a nudge on his elbow. He turns to the source of the bump and sees Ricky’s goofy grin.

“What?”

“We could’ve been doing this from the start.”

“What do you mean?”

Ricky lightly slaps Tinsley’s shoulders with the back if his fingers before pointing to himself and Tinsley repeatedly. “We could’ve always been partners in crime!”

Tinsley pushes his head further into the cushion. A fond smile spreads across his lips. “Maybe in some other lifetime.”

Two figures from the train car ahead of them catches Tinsley’s eye. Through the windows of the door, he sees familiar faces, men he and Ricky have met briefly -back in Glastonbury.  The men scan the seats around them, no doubt trying to collect back a shiny eagle and maybe the his and Ricky’s heads along with it.

Ricky still hasn’t noticed; his eyes are glued to a menu card as he mumbles to himself whether to get the salmon or halibut for lunch. Tinsley takes initiative and grabs the briefcase which most certainly caught Ricky’s attention.

“What are you doing?” Ricky’s eyes don’t leave the card he’s holding. Tinsley’s fist grips the handle of the briefcase tighter when he sees the Silo’s goons approach to their train car.

“Do you trust me?” Tinsley pulls the case on to his lap.

“Now that is a silly question, Tinsley.” Ricky turns to him nonchalantly -almost as if having a casual conversation over brunch “Of course, I do.” he flips a page.

With that, Tinsley tucks the briefcase under his arm and leaves his seat. Ricky’s eyes miss to catch Tinsley’s leaving form. He tucks himself further into Tinsley’s jacket and hums. “What’s up your sleeve, Tin-man?”

 

* * *

 

“Ah shit, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” Tinsley mutters as he makes a bee line to the back of the train. He has his hand on the door that separated the carriages when he sees the goons on the reflection of the glass. He turns around to look them in the eye and give a stiff upper lip. They still in their place and size Tinsley up. The men take a cautionary step forward and Tinsley calm façade instantly shatters.

He scrambles to slide the door open and darts down the hall. The men instantly follow, the sound of their footsteps effectively turning heads except for a concussed criminal who exasperatedly sighs out to the stewardess pouring his drink “These people making a ruckus. Don’t they have any considerations for passengers trying to relax?”

 

* * *

 

Tinsley reaches the car dedicated to storing the luggage and locks the door behind him. He blindly tosses the briefcase behind the stacked baggage and jumps at the sound of banging against the door. His brain fires a queue of half-baked plans and the one decides to pursue forces his hands to slide open the large loading doors.

Wind rushes in the carriage, the screech of the gushing air momentarily distracts Tinsley from the men breaking through the locked doors.  He turns around only to get tackled to the ground by a man built like a brick house.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile Goldsworth sports a whimsical face with eyes trained to the ceiling in deep thought.

“I’ll have the beef wellington.  Oooh and can I have it medium-rare.”

“Certainly, sir”

 

* * *

 

Tinsley is having a swell time being held in from behind in a choke hold while someone repeatedly throws punches straight to his stomach.

“Where is it!?” one of the men squeezes his arm further into Tinsley’s throat.

“Ha! Like I’m telling you geezers.”

The man in front of him whips out a tactical knife. The blade had a matte finish and even without a signature shine to it, it did the job of instilling fear into the lanky detective.

“Oh, hold on now, you’re not going to stab me, are you?!”

 

_Yes, dear reader, he was._

* * *

 

“Could you fetch me a bottle of Rosé, please.” Ricky asks a very attentive stewardess.

“Of course.” She nods and goes her merry way.

“Oh, hold on now.” Ricky says to himself, fully aware and in dire need of his missing company. He flags down the same stewardess and tugs at her sleeve. He takes a brief glance to the direction in which Tinsley disappeared to.

“I’ve been a terrible travelling companion forgetting about my friend like this-” he gasps, almost as if grasping an invisible pearl necklace around his neck for the drama. “I’ll need TWO glasses for the Rosé and could we get some of that famous rhubarb cakes!”

“O-oh, sure.”

Ricky hands her an empty plate.

 

* * *

 

Tinsley elbows the man holding him in place in the liver. When the grip around his neck loosens, he takes the opportunity to grab the man’s arm and flip him over himself and onto the man holding the knife.

A loud yelp by the man was quickly followed by Tinsley wincing when he sees that the man he threw now has a knife sticking out of his thigh.

“Ah, shit. Was that my fault?” Tinsley genuinely inquired with disgust on his face as he sees tiny speckles of blood drip from the man’s leg.

The other man who formerly held the knife found his footing and charged at Tinsley with a scowl. Out of strange fortune, the man trips and in time Tinsley moved out of his way, making room for the man to stumbled straight though the large door that has been left ajar.

Tinsley stands in shock as he just witnessed the man fall right out into the Swedish wilderness and disappear in to the shrubs in a fury of curses.  The man with the knife in the leg, limps to straighten himself on one leg. He takes a firm grip on the knife’s handle and yanks it out.

“H-hey bud, first aid 101 s-says you shouldn’t have done that.”

 

_Ah, again with the rambling._

Clearly the man is pass idle conversation. Tinsley dashes towards the stacks of bags and grabs a familiar briefcase. He uses it as a shield from the bloody blade that was now freely swinging at him. Tinsley skitters around the man, back to the large open door.

The man flickers his eyes to the briefcase and to Tinsley’s face. In turn, Tinsley flickers his eyes to the bloody knife and his assailant’s face.

Tinsley takes a gulp and conjures every ounce of conviction his lanky body held when he says,

“You want it?!”  

He wiggles his wrist holding the bag pass the door, the briefcase trembling from the flicks of Tinsley’s wrist and bellowing wind.  Tinsley readies his arm to chuck the briefcase out.

 

“Go get it!”

 

Tinsley’s fingers loosen their grip and send the case into the air making the man’s eyes widen in horror as he runs -limps towards Tinsley. His fingers brush against the briefcase’s sleek exterior and miss its handle as it falls into a passing bush. Tinsley had taken a step to the side and straightened a leg, effectively tripping the man out the door. His yells are instantly muffled when he plunges into the greenery.

 

Tinsley returns to his usual posture to stare out the door, his hair flailing wildly in the wind. A dumbfounded expression on his face melts into amusing acceptance. He closes the sliding doors back and hitch the lock on. He waddles back to the pile of bags as if in a trance and rummages around till he finds a briefcase with the metallic sheen.

He crumples to the floor and unlocks the offending briefcase to see the yellow light reflecting off an eagle. A large sigh escapes his lips before letting his torso hit the ground in lethargy.

 

* * *

 

“Oh Tinsley! Where the hell have you been?”

Half of Tinsley’s hair stands straight to the ceiling, the wild strands shake when he plops his bottom upon his seat. A bruised lip and aching stomach, his body protests every motion he makes. He tucks the suitcase between his and Ricky’s seat and deflates into the cushions supporting his back. The last tinge of adrenaline evaporated.

“Oh, you know doing stuff…out in the back.” Tinsley cringes at how he said that.

Something cold presses against Tinsley’s jaw. The glass of Rosé Ricky holds is identified to be the culprit of the sensation. Tinsley takes the glass and continues to hold it down to his face.

“Well, you look like shit. Oh Tinsley, what part of ‘partners’ did you not understand?” Ricky chides. Tinsley twiddles his thumbs, hoping Ricky wouldn’t ask for a proper answer.

“If you can…” Ricky takes a sip “Try not to do it again.”

Tinsley stays silent and lets his head crane down.

The beat of quietness shatters when Ricky nudges Tinsley in the elbow. The criminal’s cheeks plumping as he grins.

 

“Want some cake?” 

 

“Sure."

 

* * *

_Dear reader, what better way to celebrate a job well done than to share a toast with company. For succeeding in a silly scheme is something our dear detective found worthy to indulge on pricy liquor._

_Tinsley just might as well get used to the feeling. Perhaps he will._

_Perhaps he won’t._

Goldsworth’s fondness for theatrics loved to be accompanied by sentiment. Tonight, the boys have settled themselves into a small hotel room overlooking the city. Tinsley processes the events of today to find it strange that their hours a leaving them in haste. And here they are in a place that brought back memories of how they first met.

 

“What are you gonna name your new investigation agency, detective?” 

“Dunno.”

“Surely, you’ve given it some thought.”

“I haven’t really.”

 

Goldsworth’s attention turns to the golden eagle he sprawls upon his lap.

“No longer urban legends, you and I.” The glee in his voice shines through when he talks directly to the aquila. He brushes his fingers over its gilded wings “I bet you can’t wait for the limelight.” 

Tinsley could only look to his companion with mild resignation.

 

With two flute glasses and a bottle of overpriced wine, the boys sit side by side on the carpeted floor a few feet from the window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. They’ve rested their backs against the side of the single bed of the room.

 

“I can’t keep doing this” Tinsley says softly. Goldsworth’s eyes busy themselves counting the lit windows of the building before him, but his brows crease at genuine confusion from his partner’s statement.

“Keep doing what?”  

“Chasing you.”

“In case your sharp brain of yours hasn’t noticed. You have stopped doing that quite some time ago.” Goldsworth’s grin filtered his words. “And what does it mean when you’ve finished chasing someone?”

Tinsley barely turns an inch to face Ricky, sceptical and anxious for his company’s next words.

 

“It means you’ve caught ‘em.”

 

 Atop the dresser was a stereo softly playing a solemn tune. Goldsworth rocks his head side to side to the music, letting the words slip out his mouth. The glass Tinsley holds vibrates as he hums into it.

 

 _[Oh, it's such a perfect day](https://youtu.be/9wxI4KK9ZYo?t=49) _  
_I'm glad I spent it with you_  
_Oh, such a perfect day_  
_You just keep me hanging on_  
_You just keep me hanging on_

Tinsley twiddles his thumbs around the neck of his glass. This habit of his hasn’t resurfaced in some time as of late, he notices.

_[Just a perfect day](https://youtu.be/9wxI4KK9ZYo?t=76) _  
_Problems all left alone_  
_Weekenders on our own_  
_It's such fun_

 _Just a perfect day_  
_You made me forget myself_  
_I thought I was_  
_Someone else, someone good_

_Oh, it's such a perfect day_  
_I'm glad I spent it with you_  
_Oh, such a perfect day_  
_You just keep me hanging on_  
_You just keep me hanging on_

 The crescendo envelopes the boys, making the melody give the space grandeur but the room smaller.

A loud knock came through the door. Muffled shouts calling what can’t be mistaken as Goldsworth’s name. The voice commands the door to be opened. Without standing, Goldsworth reaches up to the stereo and turns the volume’ knob up.

 

Goldsworth turns and extends a hand to Tinsley. His fingers stiff, as if joints are locked. His hand stops in mid air with Tinsley looking at it quizzically.

“Pleasure doing business with you, detective Tinsley.”

The detective glides a hand over to Ricky’s.  A hesitant firm grip follows.

“And with you, Goldsworth.”

 

The doorknob turns, and the door swings open to the sight of the hotel manager scurrying way with the key to make room for men in bulletproof vests to enter. A swarm of men enters the room. One of which holds out pieces of paper before him. Upon closer inspection, one states a Red Notice from Interpol and one being an issued warrant, both for someone going by the name “Ricky Goldsworth”.   

 

The day fails to leave on a stagnant note and the wine seemed to taste sour. The song’s pace eases into a slow breeze. Goldsworth sings to it lazily as he stands from the floor, arms raised to the back of his head, looking more amused than anything. More chatter in Swede from the police men almost muffles the song that continued in the background. Goldsworth’s hand is brought down only to be bound by handcuffs. He makes the effort to continue talking to Tinsley for the sake of being cheeky.

“I’m impressed, Tinsley. This was a lot sooner than I’d expect. No honour among thieves, eh?” he jokes as he assesses the men around him. Tinsley could only avoid his gaze. 

_Dear reader, it should be noted that prior to this day, Goldsworth had in fact given Tinsley a hoard of evidence to incriminate himself as per arranged. From files on the shadiest of dealings with arms dealers to an amateur video of Francesca filming him pluck out Pomeranians from a billionaire’s home._

_Through a series of tips and bloating boxes full of files on Goldsworth’s criminal escapades C.C. Tinsley sent to Interpol some time ago, almost every police force in both hemispheres of the globe have set the name “Ricky Goldsworth” in every ledger of highly wanted criminals._

The officers escort Goldsworth and Tinsley to separate directions of the hallway right outside their room, but not before the last lines of the song die out.

 

 _You're going to reap just what you sow_  
_You're going to reap just what you sow_  
_You're going to reap just what you sow_  
_You're going to reap… just what you sow_

 

 

 

_-To be continued-_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> we're almost there maybe another part or two to go!
> 
> i've been busy with a new job and being back to school so forgive the long wait :') there were days where i'd just sit in front of the laptop craving death.  
> aaaand i spent nights writing this barely sober and editing was a nightmare so sorry for the spelling and grammatical errors. 
> 
> as for easter eggs and being a cheesy writer, this took mentions from the [The Thrilling Gardner Museum Heist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mkxQXxKSWKQ) episode, a snippet of dialogue from [this](https://youtu.be/XEZfGlyLQnA?t=183), the Worth it boys, Ryan's love for Paddington, Shane's years of learning German, and my love for John Mulaney.
> 
> as always my dudes -comments are greatly appreciated! :)


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